


Bad Day

by jynzandtonic



Category: Adam Driver Character Universe, The Dead Don't Die (2019)
Genre: ACAB except Flip Zimmerman and Ronnie Peterson, Anal Fingering, Come as Lube, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, F/M, Female Ejaculation, Gendered Pet Names, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Other, Overstimulation, Penis In Vagina Sex, Sex Toys, Squirting, Talk of Anal Sex, but(t) only a little tho, reader's nickname is 'Pancakes' just fyi, slightly dom!Ronnie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:28:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27475786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jynzandtonic/pseuds/jynzandtonic
Summary: Officer Ronnie Peterson has had a Very Bad Day, and there's only one fix for that: you.Another self-indulgent Ronnie fic featuring some good ol’ fashioned tuggin’ it together and reader’s first time squirting ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Relationships: Ronald Peterson (The Dead Don't Die)/Reader, Ronald Peterson/Reader, Ronnie Peterson/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 24





	Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

> Look, I don't want much, I just want to live in a cute cottage in a small town in Central Oregon with Ronnie Peterson where we can have raucous sex all hours of the day IS IT REALLY TOO MUCH TO ASK FOR IS IT
> 
> ················································
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr [@jynzandtonic!](jynzandtonic.tumblr.com) ʕ •ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡

Today _might_ have been fine. 

He didn’t mind having to show up at the retirement home for the fourth week in a row. The nurses were always so nice when they _‘called in for backup,’_ needing Ronnie to explain to the wily senior residents that the underground betting ring they’d established around Tuesday-night bingo was, in fact, illegal in the county. This time, however, Geraldine—the 83-year-old, sherry-drinking ringleader—had called him a “big-eared, fun-spoiling fascist,” and smacked him in the shin with her cane before hobbling off, likely to start going over the books.

He didn’t even mind that the batty alpaca rancher on the edge of town claimed someone was _‘stealing wool right off the animals!’_ and insisted he help check for shear-marks on every single one. Hey, he even thought the alpacas were pretty cute. Well… that was until one didn’t like how Ronnie was getting all up-close-and-personal, and decided to launch a gob of alpaca-spit right on his face. Maybe they _weren’t_ so cute after all.

It might’ve all been fine, but when he gets back to the police station at the end of the shift, the pudding cup he’d stashed in the fridge is gone without a trace… and at that point, there’s no coming back from it. 

Officer Peterson has had a _bad day._ And there’s only one fix for that.

…………

He drives a squad cruiser during the day, but commutes in the little red Smart Car. 

Sure, he didn’t _have_ to—but he’d always get nervous seeing the cop car parked in the driveway, wondering what he _possibly_ could’ve done to warrant police presence at his home… until he remembered that _he_ was the police presence. 

He cranks the wheel, the tiny chassis swooping into its familiar parking spot in front of your bakery. His shoulders lower when he catches sight of the sign on the door flipped to _‘CLOSED.’_

You’re his. You’re all his. He’s got you and he’s not sharing. 

You’re on him as soon as he walks in the door, hugging him tight, ‘cause you can already tell. You can always tell with Ronnie.

“Bad day?” you ask, your fingertips on his cheekbones, his jaw, the curve of his neck. 

He purses his plush, pink lips—puffing air into his cheeks, filling the space below his nose in a way that makes him look like a little mountain lion kitten. You want to squish his face flat with a kiss. 

“An alpaca spit on me. And a mean old lady told me I had big ears.”

“You have wonderful ears.”

“And someone ate my pudding cup.”

You gasp in mock-horror, and his pout turns into a half-smile. 

“Yeah, and it even had my name on it,” he says sheepishly.

“Wanna get naked about it?” you ask, finding his eyes through the frames of his glasses. He nods and smushes his face into the side of yours. “Let’s go home and jerk off together,” you whisper in his ear, sucking at the place it meets his neck.

Ronnie squeezes your ass so hard you yelp.

…………

His fingers are fast at the buttons of his uniform the second he’s in the front door; you’ve got a head start, though—your layers scattered in a haphazard trail to the foot of the stairs. He’s hot on your heels, hopping out of his slacks and socks while in pursuit. When he looks up, your round ass is right in his face, just a few steps above him. 

He tugs your underwear to your ankles and buries his face in your cunt; two large hands spread the back of your thighs wide as he hums and slurps and sucks. You shudder at the feeling of his tongue delving into your folds, licking hotly from your clit to your entrance and back again. You want to get up to the bedroom, but you can’t help the way you buck your hips back into his mouth. And Ronnie—Ronnie’s forgotten you were headed anywhere in the first place.

All day— _all day—_ all he really needed was a taste of your honeyed cunt to make him feel like a million bucks again. _Fuck_ , and the way you’re smearing yourself all over his face, he could just eat you whole—

“Hey!” he pouts as your pussy pulls away from his hungry mouth, quickly realizing it’s because your knees have buckled. He grabs you by the hips to hold you up. “Oh, sorry, Pancakes.”

“C’mon. Bed,” you laugh over your shoulder, wiggling your ass at him. He nips at your cheek, pointy little canine teeth grazing the swell of your flesh. You squeak and bolt up the rest of the stairs. 

Ronnie’s lips and chin are still shiny with you as you squeeze a big, glossy drop of lube into his palm, dipping your own fingertip in it to slick up your clit.

You both lean back against the headboard. He drapes his arm around you and sighs—long and deep and contented—as he runs his hand up and down the length of his cock, coating himself in the cool, silky gel. 

He feels like he’s been half-hard all day—tired and frustrated and anxious to get home to you—but there’s nothing ‘half’ about how hard he is now. The veins on his shaft bulge and shift as he slowly starts to stroke his length; he savors the smooth glide while his gaze rakes over your naked body. 

“Fuck, Pancakes, I love watching you use that one,” he groans, seeing you spread yourself wide with two fingers, nestling your favorite clit-sucking toy right over your exposed pearl and flipping it on. “You always cum so hard with it. I could just listen to you cum like that for hours.”

Whether it’s the toy tugging at your clit or the thought of Ronnie tugging his cock, your legs shake the slightest bit, toes curling with sensation. Your hip quivers where it’s pressed against his—not far from the stiff mast of his cock, flushing darker and darker by the second. 

“Turn it up.” His voice is low in his throat as he works his fist just under his swollen head.

You’ve barely turned the fucking thing on. You’ve got sewing-machine foot at the lowest level, but you do as you’re told, choking on a moan and leaning into Ronnie’s shoulder as the thudding pressure rockets through your belly.

“ _Mmmhhh,_ ” he hums, “does that feel good on your clit?”

You nod your head _‘yes’_ where it lolls against him, panting hot and heavy on his skin.

Whether it’s from the way he’s pumping his own cock or the thought of how your cunt must be gushing underneath your toy, his slit weeps big drops of precum with every upstroke. 

“Oh, _fff-ffuuuck_ , babe,” you gasp, staring down at his leaking tip—you’d lap it up if you weren’t so busy, “just look at you. Look at that big cock. Fuck, you’re perfect.” He jerks himself harder at that, the corded muscles in his forearm rippling as he strokes and twists.

“You like it? You like my big cock?” His free hand finds your nipple to tweak and tug sharply—pulling a pleasured sob from your chest, pulling your body taut like he’s pulling an invisible string connected straight to your cunt. “I’ve been thinking about fucking you till you cry on it _\- all - fucking - day_ ,” he grits out, “but first I’m gonna cum on your wet little pussy.”

He crawls between your spread legs, not breaking his harsh rhythm as he sits back on his heels. When he hooks a hand under your knee, lifting your thigh to expose your heat, Ronnie knows _just_ how right he was—slick oozes from your entrance, your clit swollen and puffy from the stimulation. 

With a few more rough strokes, he adds his cum to yours: thick, white ropes splatter on your slit, your pussy lips, and the toy—still sucking away at your stiff bud.

He’s fucking _wrecked_. He wants you to get yours, wants to enjoy watching you orgasm, but his cock is still _so_ _hard_ seeing his spend slide down your cunt, seeing the way you clench and clench and clench on nothing, and— 

Ronnie pushes his tip just inside you and you cry out, clamping down around him. 

He’s so fucking sensitive from cumming, he _knows_ you’re not prepped for him, but he _needs_ to push that cum deep inside you, needs to see you clench on _him_ like that. He grabs you by the shoulder and drives the full length of his cock into your drenched pussy.

Your back arches off the bed.

He’s so deep in you, you swear you can feel him in your throat. Your vision spots out, the force of your orgasm blinding as it flash-floods your consciousness. You feel like something searing and succulent has burst inside you, and— 

Ronnie’s mouth falls open, gaping down at where you’re joined, wetness trickling down his waist to the base of his cock.

“ _Jeeesus fuck, did I just, did I…_ ” You look up at him dizzily, legs still shaking.

“ ** _Again_** ,” he says, dark-eyed and wild.

You blink, exasperated, panting hard. 

“Ronnie…” Your grip on the toy starts to slacken, hands trembling from the overstimulation. “I don’t know if I can go anoth—” 

“Don’t you dare take that off your clit,” he cuts you off with a curt order, glasses askew on his flushed face. “Keep your hands where I can see them.”

“ _Babe_ , I—” 

“You’re gonna do it again. You’re going to squirt on my cock like a dirty little slut.” He grins, but you know he’s not fucking around. “Now turn it up a setting.” 

You obey, rolling your lips between your teeth to stifle a whine as you flick the toy up another level.

“Come on, Pancakes. Go up one more. One more for me.”

“ _Mmh-y-yes, Sir,_ ” you stutter out. Your whole body shudders and every new exhale is a moan; you already feel yourself rocketing towards the edge of something cataclysmic. 

“There you are,” he groans. “ _There’s_ my dirty girl.” His grip on your shoulder stays firm, pulling you to meet his thrusts. “You’re gonna say my name when you squirt for me, _aren’t you, dirty girl?_ ”

You try to answer as he grinds his cum-slicked cock into your quivering pussy, but your words are all gone. He pounds into you, pounds into your g-spot, your silky ridges gripping and grazing against the head of him. 

He can feel the way you start to bear down on him, so he snaps his hips harder and faster till your jaw drops in a silent cry, every muscle in your body tensed underneath him.

He can feel himself tightening up, threatening to spill into you.

“Cum for me, sweetie. Cum on my cock.”

You let go completely, splashing onto his hips as you gasp over and over. “ _Ronnie, Ronnie, Ronnie, Ronnie…_ ” He tumbles over the threshold with a shout, your cunt milking him for all he’s worth.

You’re both sopping as he finally stills—your wetness, his, all dripping together. You tear the vibe from your electrified clit, switching it off and tossing it aside with fumbling hands. He places a gentle palm over your sensitive mound, soothing you with the soft, steady touch.

“You did _so well_ , babe,” he whispers. “That was _so_ fucking sexy.” 

He slowly starts to pull out of you, revealing inch after inch of his shiny red cock. His cum spills from your gaping pussy and he sits back to admire the view, watching as it drips down over the pucker of your ass.

He rubs a finger around the tight little ring, humming deep in his chest. “ _Mmmm._ I want this next, Pancakes…” 

Your cunt clenches hard, sending a new wave cum sliding down to where he’s massaging you. He pushes _just a little_ inside with the very tip of his finger, and you moan, shifting your exhausted hips toward his touch.

“… But another night.” He leans down and plants a tender kiss on your sternum as he pulls his hand away. “You know what I wanna do _tonight_?”

You giggle, finally flopping boneless underneath him. 

“Eat a pint of ice-cream and binge-watch _The Mandalorian?_ ” you ask.

Ronnie sighs. 

“ _I love you._ ”

…………

**Author's Note:**

> ················································
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr [@jynzandtonic!](jynzandtonic.tumblr.com) ʕ •ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡ 
> 
> [Buy me a whiskey?](ko-fi.com/jynzandtonic)
> 
> _No trigger is too small--ask me and I'll tag it!_
> 
> **A brief note on sex and gender:** I'm AFAB nonbinary, so I while I write for fem!reader (anatomy-wise) and I *do* have a soft spot for certain gendered pet names (which are always tagged if applicable), I hope there's enough space for folx at a variety of places on the gender spectrum to feel included in my fics xoxoxo.
> 
> ················································


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